Lost Innocence
by flogging
Summary: Jim takes his anger at Molly out on their daughter, whom he is forced to bring up himself. She grows up trapped and alone and afraid to reach out for help, until she reads an article in the newspaper. Now she knows how she can escape. Will be updated weekly.
1. Chapter 1

Jim Moriarty had successfully destroyed the only innocent thing in his life. It sounded cliché, but every time he saw his daughter, the only person he could think of was her mother. Even as she grew up parted permanently from the entire maternal side of the family, everything about her reflected Molly- her gentle brown eyes, her awkward yet endearing personality, her lopsided smile. She did have Jim's strong personality (which he was still working on breaking) and his unique bone structure. Her short hair was almost as dark as his and was very thick and wavy, and in a way, the odd mix of genes had made her uniquely attractive. However, since the day Molly escaped in fear and was forced to leave her child behind, any chance Rosie had at happiness was over in an instant. Jim, along with his partner-in-crime Sebastian Moran, changed her from a happy; friendly child to a scared; quiet and socially anxious teenager. She crept round the house on her tip-toes; afraid to awake the wrath of her father for some small and usually imagined crime, flinching at every sudden movement or noise and desperately trying to hide the red marks and bruises that covered her body. In public, Rosie could barely even make eye contact with anyone and had failed to socialise, even whilst in primary school. She was, in every sense of the word, broken.

It wasn't until she was reading one of her father's newspapers one day that she finally felt a spark of hope. There, featured in the headlines, was Sherlock Holmes, a so-called "consulting detective", and alongside his name there were two others: John Watson and Molly hooper. Her mother. There was a photo too, of the three of them standing together in the morgue. Tears dripped down onto the paper as she cried over the first photo of her mother she had ever seen. A link to Sherlock's blog had been left at the bottom of the article, and Rosie knew that this was it. She was going to escape.

 **A/N : Thank you for reading! The next (longer) chapter is already in the works so I promise there will be an update soon (probably tomorrow). Please follow/review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock had guessed that there was a dark mark in Molly's past the moment he met her, but he never broached the subject. Despite his complete lack of tact and basic social skills, even he knew that it would not be a good idea to win her trust if he were to even mention his observations, and so he ignored her shaking hands and the red rings around her eyes from when she had taken to locking herself into her office at lunch times to try to hide her silent and shaking sobs. Even on the rare occasions when she smiled, there was a sadness behind it which even Sherlock could not ignore.

It took quite a few years before Molly seemed to move on from whatever emotional suffering she had been through before she and Sherlock had met. Slowly, the crying spells petered out and she seemed to have settled down a little. She even put on a little bit of weight. Sherlock found that, once life seemed to go back to normal for her, he and the pathologist had formed an unusual bond which could almost be considered a friendship.

"Ah, Molly." Sherlock called from across the morgue. He made his way across the morgue to where she stood next to a slab upon which her most recent cadaver lay.

"Oh, er, hello Sherlock. How are you?" She greeted him, smiling awkwardly. He liked her smile.

Sherlock walked around to the other side of the body and glanced at it quickly with a slightly knowing look before returning his gaze to Molly. "I need some more eyeballs. Three; to be exact."

Molly's smile faded. He only ever seemed to speak to her when he needed something, and she always ended up giving in. "Sherlock, I can't keep doing this, I'll lose my job. Please." She fretted, blushing slightly as Sherlock gave her his puppy eyes.

"Please Molly, you know how important my experiments are to me." He pleaded.

She sighed a little, before her slight, lop-sided smile returned. "Just don't get me into trouble, Sherlock."

Four hours later and Molly was finally able to call it a day. She had finished so late that despite the fact that it was May, and the days were getting longer, the sun had already set. Everyone else in the morgue had long since left and so she had to slowly work her way through the entire floor of the building to turn off the lights and check each room. She started from the room furthest from the elevator, checking the room and turning off the light. It didn't take her long to make her way across to her office and designated section of the morgue, which was the closest to the lift. At this time of night the building was incredibly unsettling, partly from the nature of its use, but also from the eerie glow of the street light rising up from below, and the moonlight casting a gentle silver light across the room, casting many strange-looking shadows in its path. Molly opened the door and noticed instantly that the room was dark, even though she had deliberately left the light on as she did her rounds through the building.

"Hello mother." A young voice broke the silence.

Molly screamed.

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! As usual, please follow/review/fav or whatever. I'm hoping my writing will improve as I go.**


	3. Chapter 3

Jim guessed that Rosie had gone to find her mother the minute Sebastian had called to inform him of her escape. As long as he was definitely right (and he would check the moment he could get one of his goons to answer their damn phone) he didn't mind. She wasn't exactly in any imminent danger if she stayed with her mother in a small London flat, and he was planning on taking her back in a few years anyway, when she was old enough. Seb was pissed though, now that he was on "stalker duty" as he had so poetically put it. It was partially punishment for letting Rosie slip from their grasp, but also to make sure nothing _too_ serious happened to her over the next few years. He was sent to watch her from the shadows, never revealing himself but reporting everything back to her father. This was going to be interesting.

oOoOoOo

Sherlock was the first person Molly told. She rang him in tears, begged him to come round and sat with him while they watched her daughter, fast asleep on the sofa in front of them. She explained everything.

"I-I don't know what to do, Sherlock. Please don't hate me. God, I hate myself enough already. I thought- I hoped- that he would treat her right. But look at her, she's _broken._ " Molly sobbed, clutching her sofa cushion to her chest. Sherlock placed his arm around her uncomfortably. Physical affection made him incredibly uncomfortable but in situations like this, that's what people do, right? They console each other by hugging and whatnot. He wanted to make Molly happy. He wanted to comfort her, and to tell her exactly how he was going to make things better. He had so many things to say but no possible way of putting them all into words. But he had to try.

"Molly, god knows I have more than enough regrets for a lifetime. Luckily only a few of them have managed to come back and bite me, but I suppose, when it comes to it, you can't really dwell on these things. I mean, isn't this a good thing? She's back, and it's not too late. You can help her. And I'm- I'm- I'm here for you, Molly. Whatever you need."

Molly relaxed a little and leaned against Sherlock. He tensed up before attempting to ease himself into the embrace. It occurred to him at that point, whilst watching Rosie practically comatose on the sofa, that he would do anything for Molly. He did have a few people in his life that he cared about, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud- John, Mycroft, his parents, Mrs Hudson- but his feelings towards Molly were different. He didn't always know how to understand and interpret his emotions, but knew his feelings enough to know that he would die for her. And now she had a new addition to her family, he supposed he would have to look out for her too.

"You were the only person I could tell, Sherlock. Thank you." She whispered.

Rosie's eyes flashed open and they stared straight at the man across the room. She recognised newspaper- the consulting detective or whatever ridiculous title he had given himself. Perhaps he was why her father had suddenly started referring to himself as a "consulting criminal". She sat up, running her fingers backwards through her short hair before stretching her arms above her head, suddenly appearing oblivious to the pair seated in front of her. Molly found that in some ways, Rosie reminded her of Sebastian. She wondered if he had had some input into Jim's fifteen-year tirade of abuse.

Sensing his friend's uncertainty, Sherlock decided to step in and break the silence.

"Hello Rosie. Did you sleep well?"

 **A/N: Sorry I didn't update for ages! School is hell. As before, please follow/favourite/review. Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the problems with how this chapter uploaded. I think I've fixed it!**

Rosie stared at Sherlock for a few seconds, unmoving, before practically leaping from the sofa and darting across to the window. Molly watched in silent confusion, but Sherlock understood. He stood up. "He's watching you, isn't he? Moriarty."

"He sent Moran out to follow me." She spoke quietly. "I don't know exactly where he is, but he's in one of the buildings over there. I don't want to look like I'm trying to work out where he is, I'd rather let him think he's hidden."

"Sebastian's here? Oh my god, Sherlock. If Jim sent him then...this is not good." Molly stammered.

Her face had blushed crimson in fear and she looked on at her daughter in dread.

Rosie's jaw clenched and she turned around to face the pair.

"Yes, mother, this is not good. I wonder what level of not-good it had been fifteen years ago for you to have justified leaving me with those two psychopaths? Because I'm sure it can't be as bad as what they've got in store for us now."

"Rosie, I-"

"Stop. I don't want to hear any of your excuses right now. I haven't eaten in almost two days and I'm too tired to deal with everything."

Sherlock stepped forward. "Do you want Chinese?"

oOoOoOo

That night, after Rosie had managed to consume several boxes of Chinese takeaway and had long since gone to bed in the guest bedroom of the flat, Sherlock and Molly sat together watching the ten o'clock news. It felt strangely domestic.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, Molly?"

"How did you know his name? Jim's, I mean. I never told you."

Sherlock, slightly uncomfortable at the realisation that he was already far more tangled up in this affair than he wanted to be, stared at his knees. "Well, it was a stab in the dark, really. He was the one who payed the taxi driver to kill all those people. It was strange, really, he seemed so desperate for my attention. When you described his work, the similarity appeared to be more than just coincidence. I suppose he is targeting me now too."

"Just..remember, Sherlock. This isn't a game."

"I know."

Sherlock stood up from the sofa and made his way to the door, pulling his coat off the stand as he walked past it. He turned to Molly. "You haven't used any of your holiday this year, have you Molly? Take it all off at once- they can't fire you for it. Call me in the morning and we'll get Mycroft to sort all the legal nonsense out for Rosie. Goodbye." And with that, he was gone. Molly wasn't even surprised by his less than polite exit. It was typical Sherlock.

oOoOoOo

Sebastian let himself into Jim's flat to find his boss spread lazily across his sofa, his top button undone and his tie hanging loose. Jim turned to look at the sniper before returning his gaze to the flickering television in front of him. "Hey tiger," he purred, "any news?"

Sebastian, not wanting to stay long, leaned against the breakfast bar. The whole flat was open-plan with the kitchen and the living room in the same room. Rosie had always hated it. There was never anywhere to hide from her abusers. "I left someone else in charge for the night. Nothing interesting has happened. That Sherlock guy was there though, the one that you mentioned."

Jim's head turned at the mention of the detective's name. "Do you know what that means, tiger?"

"No Boss."

"It means we've got a game to play."

 **A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! As usual, please** **fave** **/follow/review.**


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